<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>i look at you, fog starts to clear by snails_in_therain</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707041">i look at you, fog starts to clear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/snails_in_therain/pseuds/snails_in_therain'>snails_in_therain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>An Ember in the Ashes - Sabaa Tahir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, and a tiny bit of keris but she doesn't really do much, and dex and faris apparently, as a treat, i just want them to be happy okay??, i'm too scared to actually write her, you can have a little elias</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:40:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/snails_in_therain/pseuds/snails_in_therain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world narrows into the feel of the velvet seat under my fingers and the dancers as they twirl gracefully around the stage. Subconsciously I copy the tilt of their heads and the delicate placement of their fingers. My posture straightens under the weight of an invisible costume.<br/>That night, I dream about Swan Lake. This time it is me flying through the air--arms outstretched and perfectly pointed toes. Across the stage, waiting for me, is a tall boy with piercing green eyes.</p><p>three times helene aquilla didn't dance swan lake with avitas harper, and the one time she did. modern ballet au</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Helene Aquilla/Avitas Harper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Entrée</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title comes from "Fog" by The Regrettes. See the end for a summary of Swan Lake.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My first experience with the classic ballet Swan Lake is at age seven. My family avidly supports the arts, and my mother sits on the board of our city’s ballet company, which is renowned throughout the world. Of course she introduces her children to the art form as soon as possible. For the 100th anniversary of the internationally lauded company, Antium Ballet Theatre or ABT for short, is celebrating with the iconic Swan Lake, and I am in the audience.</p><p>The curtain rises on a bright summer scene, and the light waltz music sweeps me into the prince’s birthday celebrations. The world narrows into the feel of the velvet seat under my fingers and the dancers as they twirl gracefully around the stage. Subconsciously I copy the tilt of their heads and the delicate placement of their fingers. My posture straightens under the weight of an invisible costume. </p><p> </p><p>During Act II, I get the first glimpse of the main character: Odette the White Swan Queen. She is danced by Keris Veturia, the only female dancer to have come through Blackcliff Academy, ABT’s associated school, in recent memory. With every graceful jump and incline of her head, an itch grows beneath my skin--the need to move and dance.</p><p>Odile, the Black Swan, the cruel and evil twin of Odette presides over Act III. The only reason I know it’s Keris, the same ballerina as Odette, is her diminutive stature and pale blonde hair. Otherwise, she fully embodies this new character--from the expression on her face to the curl of her fingers and placement of her feet. As she begins a series of complicated turns, the music building anticipation behind her, I scoot to the edge of my seat, unwilling to even blink.</p><p> </p><p>During the final intermission (there are four acts) my mother is waylaid by fellow board members and leaves me to explore the massive theatre, Taius Hall, alone. The hall is decorated in gold, velvet, and mirrors--from the exquisite lobby with the sweeping staircase to the intricately molded soap holders in the bathroom. I wander open mouthed through an empty hallway, eyes glued on the intricate paintings on the ceiling depicting Taius I’s glorious conquering of Antium, until I run straight into someone else. I step back, smoothing my dark turquoise dress and preparing an apology. The boy is a couple of years older than me, with dark skin and emerald eyes and a lithe build that reminds me of the dancers I have just seen.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I was fascinated by the paintings and forgot to watch where I was going.”</p><p>He gives me an easy smile. “It’s no problem. Every time I come here I discover something new about the Hall. Are you enjoying the ballet?”</p><p>I nod emphatically. “This is the first ballet I’ve ever seen, and everything about it is beautiful.”</p><p>“Your first ballet, eh? Well I’m so glad you’re enjoying it, and I hope you come to see many more. They’re going to do Don Quixote in June, and it’s almost as beautiful as Swan Lake.”</p><p>“Don Quixote? What’s that about?”</p><p>We fall into easy conversation. I tell him about my enrollment at Antium Elementary, and he tells me about Blackcliff Academy and his dream to dance with ABT professionally. Suddenly the overhead lights flicker on and off, indicating the imminent end of intermission.</p><p>“Guess we should get back to our seats,” he says, looking up. </p><p>I make an agreeable noise, heading towards the stairs with him. </p><p>When I get back to my floor, I wave. “Maybe I’ll see you around…” I trail off, realizing that we never exchanged names.</p><p>“Oh,” he says. “Avitas Harper.”</p><p>I smile and nod. “Helene. See you around, Avitas Harper.”</p><p> </p><p>That night, I dream about Swan Lake. This time it is me flying through the air--arms outstretched and perfectly pointed toes. Across the stage, waiting for me, is a tall boy with piercing green eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes:<br/>Brief summary of Swan Lake:<br/>Act I: It's Prince Siegfried's birthday; revelry ensues. He must marry soon.<br/>Act II: Siegfried stumbles upon a lake where the swans become women. They are trapped by a sorcerer so that they are swans by day and women by night. The curse can only be broken if someone swears to love their queen, the White Swan Odette, forever. She and Siegfried fall in love.<br/>Act III: At a costume party, Siegfried's mother introduces him to marriageable candidates. The sorcerer (Rothbart) brings his daughter to the party--Odile the Black Swan--who is enchanted to look exactly like Odette. Siegfried mistakes her for Odette and just as he declares his love for her, accidentally breaking his vow to love Odette forever, he realizes his mistake.<br/>Act IV: Devastated, Siegfried apologies to Odette. She forgives him, but the damage is done. Instead of continuing to live with the curse, she and Siegfried choose to die by leaping off a cliff. The spell is broken and Rothbart is defeated. The swan maidens, now regular maidens, watch as Odette and Siegfried ascend to the heavens united in love.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Adagio</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just read Sky and it ripped my poor heart out! Sabaa why??? Also this chapter is double the length of the previous one... I'm still not happy with it but I'm trying to be okay with not having everything perfect. See the end for a link to a video of fouettés (and the entire pas de deux if you want to watch it for some reason) and information about a ballet pas de deux, as all are relevant to the story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My second experience with the classic ballet ballet Swan Lake is at age fifteen. I’ve been training at Blackcliff Academy for eight years, having auditioned and been accepted to the school soon after seeing Swan Lake. Despite ballet being a female-dominated sport, Keris Veturia and I are the only female students of Blackcliff alive.</p><p>Each year, the school has an annual end-of-year showcase performance where each of the school’s levels (of which there are eight, ranging from ages seven to seventeen) presents a group piece and selected students present solos, coached by ABT company members. This year, Elias and I have been chosen as the sole representatives of Level Seven. Black Swan pas de deux from Swan Lake, with Avitas Harper as our coach.</p><p> </p><p>I’m surprised to discover that Harper remembers me from eight years ago--even treats me like an old friend. He walks into our first rehearsal pulling a TV along, archival footage of the last performance of Swan Lake already queued up. </p><p>“Hey, Aquilla. Nice to see you again,” he says, wheeling the massive cart into the middle of the room. Elias shoots me a look that says How do you know him?, but my look answers Shut up--there’s someone important here.</p><p>“You too.” I reply. “Glad to see you’re dancing with ABT.”</p><p>He gives me a wry smile. “Just barely. I’m glad I stuck it out through the Black Guard.” The Black Guard is a yearlong pre professional training programme for students who want to join the company--Blackcliff students who aren’t offered a contract after graduation or a woman who hasn’t gone through the academy.</p><p>I shrug. “You got there in the end. I’m happy for you.”</p><p>“Thanks. And from what I hear, you and Veturius here will be joining me soon enough.” He powers on the television, glancing back at Elias. “Sorry, Avitas Harper. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>Elias shakes the proffered hand. “Veturius. Nice to meet you too. I can’t wait to get started. Helene’s been bouncing off the walls since we got word.”</p><p>I stick my tongue out at Elias when Harper’s back is turned. “Yes, I’m very excited,” I say. “Swan Lake is my favorite ballet.”</p><p>“I’m glad to hear that.” On any other instructor it would’ve sounded condescending, but Harper sounds genuinely pleased that I love Swan Lake. The television comes to life, Keris Veturia and Arius Harper frozen on screen. </p><p>“Let’s get going, then. You both enter from stage left, hand in hand. Veturius leads.”</p><p> </p><p>Day by day, rehearsal by rehearsal, our heads fill up with choreography. We learn the famous turns and lifts, but most of the focus is on tiny details. A brief moment of eye contact, the brush of a hand, the precise tilt of an alluring smile. I look forward to rehearsal not only for the choreography, but also because Harper is a patient and gentle teacher, full of advice and camaraderie.</p><p> </p><p>The last section of the Black Swan pas de deux is called the coda, which features the most infamous step of a ballerina’s repertoire: the fouetté. A fouetté turn is notoriously difficult because a dancer powers her turn with one leg--through a circular whipping movement--while balancing on the other. The Black Swan coda requires thirty two turns, all on one leg. Naturally, this requires a fair amount of practice.</p><p>This rehearsal Harper and I are alone, practicing the fouettés. I’m all the way at twenty two when I lose concentration and stop. A key part of fouettés is finding the rhythm, something that breaks down stamina wears out. </p><p>“You’re leaving your arm out for too long as you turn,” he critiques, brow furrowed as he thinks. “It throws you off balance and disturbs your rhythm. Do you want to try again?”</p><p>My leg is cramping, but my determination to succeed compels me to nod. As I begin to turn again, Harper yells out advice about the optimal time to pull my arm into my body. I make it up to thirty before I have to stop. “Much better,” Harper says. “Can you feel it? It’s something small, but in the long run it really helps.”</p><p>I wipe my brow, fighting the growing urge to lay on the floor. “Mhm.” My leg is cramping badly, and my face twists into a grimace as the muscle pulses.</p><p>“Let’s take a break,” Harper announces. “You look like you’re going to cry.”</p><p>“You haven’t broken me yet,” I say, making a beeline for my water bottle. “You’ve broken my calf, though.” I sit heavily on the floor, massaging the seizing muscle.</p><p>Harper nods sympathetically, sliding down to the floor next to me. “Here, I have something that might help.” He hands me a tennis ball, his name written across the curved surface in lopsided letters. “Put it underneath your calf like this, and press down on any knots you feel.”</p><p>I roll the ball underneath my leg as instructed, and immediately find a tender spot. The pain is almost unbearable, so I settle for rocking my leg on and off the ball to work through the pain. “Thanks,” I exhale as my muscles start to release.</p><p>After a few minutes of silence, Harper stands up. “Why don’t we focus on something else for a bit? There’s still some coda to work on.”</p><p>I stand as well, gingerly shaking out the sore leg. Although I offer him the tennis ball, he demonstrates the four others he has, so I tuck it into my bag.</p><p>There’s only a minute of the entire pas de deux left, and, when we’re finished, I can’t wipe the grin off my face. Harper indulges my excitement and dances the entire piece with me. Fifteen minutes of a heart pounding, pulse racing frenzy--dangerous and beautiful like dark storm clouds shot through with lightning. </p><p> </p><p>I’ve never felt as nervous for a performance as I do before the showcase performance. Although Elias is well versed in calming my pre-show nerves, when Harper comes to wish us luck they haven’t faded. He pulls me aside as the first notes of the piece before us play.</p><p>“Hey, Helene,” he says, his voice calm and steady.</p><p> I shoot him a wary look, my thoughts focused on the lift that Elias and I are still inconsistently accomplishing. </p><p>“Hey, remember you unfold into your position slowly,” his voice cuts through my thoughts like he can hear them, coaching me through the lift. “Then pull your arms in as you turn--fast. Keep your core muscles strong and your arms close.”</p><p>I nod absently, although I file away the words.</p><p>“Keep power through your arm during the one-armed balance--only Elias's hand is holding you upright. Feel your toes pressing into the ground, and the connection in your back.” I nod again, this time more intentionally. I picture the choreography he is talking about, visualizing the strength in my arms.</p><p>With a low, patient voice, Avitas talks me through the pas de deux. “Don’t forget to pull in your arm during those fouettés,” is the last thing I hear before the backstage is flooded with Level Fours fleeing from their performance.</p><p>Elias and I take the stage, and the dark of the wings is wiped away by the bright light of the stage lights. The tiara on my head feels heavy and one of my pointe shoe ribbons is digging into my ankle. </p><p>“First impressions matter, especially during this piece. Remember to tilt your head and lengthen your arms. Make a connection with Elias, but also with the audience.” Harper’s words from earlier return, in that wonderfully calm, grounding voice. I lift my chin to a haughty angle and flash a seductive smile at the darkened theatre as I prepare for the first steps, Harper’s advice flowing through my head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxT5gnXs4Ug">Fouettés (and bonus turns) performed by Carrie Imler</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIFfEMrebBs">Black Swan Pas de Deux performed by Gillian Murphy and Angel Corella</a> </p><p>Pas de deux: French for “dance of two”. Consists of five parts.<br/>Entrée: “Entrance”. Beginning of the dance, where the dancers meet on stage, often with great theatricality.<br/>Adagio: “Slow”. A longer dance, where the woman performs graceful movements, supported by her partner. The dance is often romantic and includes sustained close contact between the dancers<br/>Variation One: A solo dance performed by the man. Often includes large jumps and turns.<br/>Variation Two: A solo dance performed by the woman. Often starts slower and ends with a difficult turn sequence.<br/>Coda: “Tail”. The dancers reunite to finish their pas de deux, a grand showing of the dancers’ skill, often involving large lifts, jumps, and turns. Popular movements include the pirouette à la seconde for men and the infamous fouettés for women.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Variation I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So much Plot happens in this, and I still don't think the pacing's right. If I made it go any slower, though, this chapter would be the length of a novella. It's 4am and I just want to get this thing up. Let me know if my sleep-deprived brain accidentally churned out something horrible; I wouldn't put it past it. Also am I the only one that shipped Dex and Faris? See the end for a picture of a penché and links to the White Swan Pas de Deux and Rose Adagio. They're not necessary viewing, but hey if someone wants to see them, they they are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My third experience with the classic ballet Swan Lake is at age eighteen. This is my second season with the company, having accepted the offer after graduation. Elias was also approached, although he went to Serra City Ballet instead. After the Nutcracker frenzy, our next performance is ‘A Tribute to Tchaikovsky’ in February: excerpts from ballets set to Tchaikovsky’s music. There are five pieces, including the Rose Adagio from Sleeping Beauty (Dex, Faris, Silvius, Rallius, and I) and the White Swan Pas de Deux (Avitas and Stella Galerius).</p><p> </p><p>Although it grew out of necessity, now Harper and I stay later in the evening to practice with each other by choice, enjoying the quiet that two hundred ballet dancers leave in their wake to break down the day’s work and address any issues.</p><p>“You need to move my hand to where you need it; don’t be afraid of hurting me,” Avitas says as I attempt to balance on one leg with the other behind me, clutching his hand extended in front of me. “I’m here to help you, so take whatever you need.”</p><p>I grasp his hand as I step onto pointe, our grip tightening. He holds steady as I find my balance, gracefully adjusting as the pressure on our hands changes with my balance. </p><p>He starts to walk in a circle, our joined hands forcing me to turn with him. Although every muscle in my body fights, I tip off balance and have to stop.</p><p>“Push your shoulder blades down,” Avitas says, smoothing his fingers across my bare shoulders, leaving goosebumps in his wake, “And feel the muscles in your arm activating as you press down into my hand. Keep your shoulders squared and your arm in front of you,” he adds, gently pulling my arm so my hand hovers across from my sternum. “I’m turning you by moving your hand, so your upper body needs to follow.” </p><p>I reach for him again, a spark jumping as our palms meet. I straighten my shoulders and engage my muscles, holding tight as he carefully rotates me. The world narrows to the feeling of Avitas’s hand in mine--the dozen points where our skin touches, the long fingers gripping mine, the steady assurance radiating from every inch of him.</p><p> </p><p>I deal with this newfound spark very well--by completely shutting out Harper and ignoring it. I don’t even know what it is, per se. When I think about the four letter L-word, I think about jumping through the air, the weightlessness of pirouettes, or the entrancing music of Swan Lake. I think about Elias breaking my heart as he packed for Serra, or the fierce protectiveness I feel for my sister Livia and the two goons who are Dex and Faris--the only two left with me of the sixty in our graduating year. I also think about Avitas, but I try not to dwell too long on that. </p><p>Not only is Avitas responsible for the thousands of butterflies that have suddenly taken up residence in my stomach (causing me to avoid him), but he’s also my best friend. He pulls me out of my head, delivers criticism without making me angry, lets me shower first when we come home, and makes faces during my weekly video calls with Livia. He has become a fixture in my life without me even realizing it, and my voluntary isolation from him results in a dark cloud polluting my mood, which I take out on anyone and everything near me.</p><p> </p><p> I last a week before Dex and Faris have had enough of me taking out my frustration on them, and stage an intervention during one of our Rose Adagio rehearsals.</p><p>Dex has me by the waist, keeping me balanced on one leg as I bring my torso down to that leg, the other one rising into a vertical split behind me. He’s holding me slightly off my center of gravity, causing me to be unable to complete the move.</p><p>“Dex,” I growl, “Keep me pulling me off my leg, and I will murder you.”</p><p>The rehearsal director calls for a ten minute break, and Dex immediately lets me go.</p><p>“I’m serious,” I say. “Even a Fiver could partner better than that. How hard is it to keep my hips over my toes? You’re making a straight line, for crying out loud.”</p><p>Dex sticks his tongue out at me. “I would love to, but I’m actually contractually obligated to throw you slightly off balance every time we’re paired together. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”</p><p>“Next time we pirouette, I can and will kick you in the balls again.” I did that very thing to Dex (on accident) last rehearsal.</p><p>“Don’t provoke her, Dex,” Faris admonishes. “But ease up, Aquilla. You’ve been in a foul mood all week, and you don’t need to take it out on us.”</p><p>“I think it’s just her default state,” Dex says cheerfully. “She’s mean to everyone.”</p><p>Faris makes a face that clearly says, What did I just say?</p><p>I frown. “That’s only because you’re a terrible partner. There’s at least a hundred Masks employed by this company; surely one of you must be competent.” Masks are what we Blackcliff graduates call ourselves; the origin of the nickname is lost.</p><p>“I dunno about ‘competent’,” Rallius replies. “I think we’re all competent, we just weren't trained for a Mask girl.”</p><p>“Except for Harper. He’s the only one as far as I know who’s escaped bodily harm,” Faris chimes in, exchanging a look with Dex.</p><p>“You’ve done, like, fifty performances with him during Nutcracker alone. And you never once kicked him in the nuts,” Dex notes.</p><p>“That’s because he knows how to partner properly,” I shoot back, just as the aforementioned man appears in the doorway.</p><p>“Speak of the devil!” cries Faris as Harper enters. “We were just talking about you!”</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. “Were you? I hope it was nice.”</p><p>Silvius nods. “You’re the only partner Aquilla hasn’t yelled at.”</p><p>“That’s not fair,” I interject, valiantly ignoring Harper. “I never yelled at Elias either. And we did Black Swan together, and there was ample opportunity for yelling.” </p><p>“That shouldn’t count,” Dex argues. “You were fifteen. The point I’m trying to make is that you’ve been in the company for two years, and already you have a reputation for yelling at your partners.”</p><p>“I don’t yell,” I say, affronted. “I suggest, and that’s only because you're not doing it right.”</p><p>Harper grins. “Let me guess, you’re pulling her off balance?”</p><p>Dex throws up his arms. “Let’s see you partner her without injury. Yelling counts as injury.”</p><p>Harper laughs. “I need to get back to teaching; I just came by to give Helene something.” He waves a cereal bar, which I take grudgingly. </p><p>“Just two minutes!” Dex says. “Please?”</p><p>“Please!” Faris adds. “It’s important.”</p><p>I narrow my eyes at the two boys, continuing to avoid Harper’s gaze. “We’ll do it for twenty dollars. Each.”</p><p>“Ten,” Dex replies.</p><p>“Fifteen.”</p><p>“Twelve.”</p><p>“Fine.” We shake on the bargain, and Harper laughs as he steps into the studio.</p><p>“What do you want to do?” He’s asking me, but Dex responds.</p><p>“Pirouette and a turn in the penché position,” He insists, referring to the position he and I failed to complete earlier. “I swear it’s impossible with her.” </p><p>“Er, that’s fine,” I say, confronted with Harper for the first time in about a week. “Nice and basic.”</p><p>“Helene--” he says, but is cut off as I prepare for the pirouette.</p><p>Carefully, Harper places his hands at my waist. I’ve missed the feeling of his hands--steady and relaxed as opposed to Dex’s slack touch and Faris’s tense fingers. I turn five times before opening up to an arabesque. Like in rehearsal, my leg comes up as my torso comes down until I am in a vertical split. Avitas gets fancy and walks me in a circle with only one hand for stabilization, knowing exactly where to put my weight so I won’t fall. I rise back into an upright position before Harper lets his arms fall back at his sides. </p><p>“Ha,” I say triumphantly. “Cough it up.”</p><p>Harper checks the digital clock mounted on the studio wall, “As much as I would like to watch you destroy these two, I have to go back to teaching the future of dance. Eat that cereal bar, and see you tonight,” he adds pointedly. “Nice to see you guys. Good luck.” He ducks out into the hallway.</p><p>I unwrap the bar as instructed, standing in the doorway so as not to get crumbs on the specialized dance floor, and watching as he disappears down another hall.</p><p>“He definitely misses her,” Dex mutters as he rifles through his bag for money. “That’s obvious. And she’s been cranky so she obviously misses him too. I hope this was enough.”</p><p>“Excuse me, what?” I exclaim, pausing as I collect Faris’s money. </p><p>Dex looks like I’ve caught him sneaking cookies after I explicitly told him not to, and Faris freezes, a ten dollar bill halfway to my hand.</p><p>“It was Dex’s plan; we just saw how sad he’s been and how unhappy you’ve been, and we just wanted you to pull it together and fix whatever issue it is you’ve got,” Faris says, unfreezing and handing me the bill.</p><p>“We aren’t having any issues, and even if we were, it wouldn’t be your job to fix them for us!” I exclaim.</p><p>Dex’s mouth is open, ready to launch a retort, when the ballet master returns from the break and calls the rehearsal again. Faris’s words and Harper’s ‘see you tonight’ roll around my head for the rest of the afternoon. </p><p> </p><p>That evening, Harper and I meet in our usual studio.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s got you in this weird mood, but I’ve been working on some Swan Lake stuff--would you like to try it with me?”</p><p>“Fine,” I sigh, disgruntled that he knows precisely what will lure me back to evening practices.</p><p>He gives me a small smile, setting off my butterflies. “Let’s just get going,” I say.</p><p>We stand in the center of the room, facing our reflections in the mirror, his hands instinctively going to my waist as he describes a short section of the choreography.</p><p>Following his instructions, I jump into a perfect split, boosted up by Avitas’s hands at my waist. Lifts with him are always fun; he’s strong enough to easily raise me above his head, and he sometimes even throws and catches me so it really feels like flying. </p><p>I step away from him, then pirouette towards him as his hands come to my waist to help me balance. He knows just where to apply pressure to keep me from falling. I finish the turn by extending my leg to the side, my body tilting away to make room for my leg. Avitas is ready for the miniscule weight shift, keeping me perfectly on my toes as I turn my head to complete the pose, trusting in him to keep me upright.</p><p>We run through the choreography until it feels perfect, and then move on. I’ve missed the steady rhythm of our evening rehearsals--the way we communicate without really talking--watching instead for the dart of an eye or the tensing of muscles. I know Avitas is ready to pack up and go home when he clenches his jaw as he lifts me. I also know that he’s willing to practice with me for as long as it takes to make me feel better by the way he scrunches his shoulders up before we start the music again. There’s no one else I understand so intuitively, and I’ve missed it. </p><p>“I’m ready to go home,” I say. </p><p>Harper looks at me, his shoulders pulled behind him. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>I don’t say thank you out loud, but it’s implied in the way I sit on the floor next to Avitas as I pack up my bag, in the way I ask to share his earbud as we walk the couple of blocks to our apartment, in the way I’m finally brave enough to let my touch linger as we pass each other.</p><p> </p><p>On opening night, my jitters are easily soothed by a quick run through before the performance starts and my traditional pre-show routine. We’re the penultimate act (second only to Avitas and Stella Galerius in Swan Lake), and I try to relax and focus on the master Tchaikovsky at work. </p><p>Avitas meets me in the corridor behind the stage when I’m preparing to go on, as per tradition, talking me through the few things I’ve been having trouble with. The performance goes beautifully, and I rely on Avitas’s calm advice as I tackle the challenging moves.</p><p>I have no time to go change before Avitas goes on for his piece, so I stay in the wings, fully dressed in my pink tutu and sparkly crown as the lights dim and he enters the stage.</p><p>Watching Harper dance has always felt calming. Everything about him is calming--from his soothing voice to his steady hands to his uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. Since I’m not dancing with him, I notice little ways I’ve affected his dancing, like the glance at Stella (she is looking elsewhere) because I always looked at him, or the placement of his hands when he lifts her overhead because I liked it better that way. I can see where I’ve impacted him, and it’s not at all difficult for me to see how he’s impacting me.</p><p>I know what Avitas likes for breakfast, and he drops by my rehearsals with a cereal bar to curb my hangry temper. I watch endless amounts of HGTV (he really likes Love It or List It) and clean the disaster of a kitchen after he’s made a meal, and he quietly returns pointe shoes and leotards he finds wedged between couch cushions or on windowsills or hanging off the shower rod. Our closets merged into The Closet--a horde of two ballet dancers who are very fond of cozy clothing and about the same size. Harper tries to be organized, but my habit of stealing his sweatpants and his preference for my many sweatshirts from different summer training programmes has largely derailed the system. The enormity of our connection scares me but also thrills me, knowing that I love him and he loves me.</p><p>As he comes offstage, to thunderous applause, I snag his wrist.</p><p>“Helene,” he says, slightly out of breath.</p><p>It’s the way he says my name, like it’s an exclamation, a revelation, and a prayer all together, and his bright green eyes that do me in.</p><p>Even though we're in full view of Dex, Faris, Silvius, Rallius, a couple of other company members, and the entire backstage crew, I pull him down, sliding my lips over his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Penché by Leta Biasucci during the Rose Adagio:<br/><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toX6pjZF4fU">White Swan Pas de Deux performed by Natalia Osipova and Matthew Golding</a><br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqejv_BQ7Zg">Rose Adagio performed by Marianela Nunez</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Variation II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahahaha! It's finally finished! Sorry I went MIA for like two weeks there; that's kind of awkward. However, I've managed to finished before the New Year, which I count as an absolute win. Thanks for reading! It means a lot to me. Actually putting things into the world for people to read is terrifying, but I'm glad if someone reads this and feels a little bit better. The end notes have info about how a ballet company is structured, because that comes up a bit in the story. FYI, corps is pronounced core. (It's French)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My fourth experience with the classic ballet Swan Lake is at age twenty one; Harper and I star as Siegfried and Odette/Odile respectively. This is the first time ABT has performed Swan Lake since Keris Veturia danced the lead fourteen years ago, and now the only other female Blackcliff graduate in living memory is stepping into the role. </p><p> </p><p>My rehearsals are mainly supervised by Keris, who is taking a break from terrorizing Academy students to coach me—one Blackcliff girl to another.</p><p>“You’re approaching the movement completely wrong,” Keris snaps at me. “You are a delicate swan. Right now you resemble a chicken on a mission. Try again.”</p><p>Another rehearsal, Keris focuses on our acting. “This is your first encounter with Siegfried. You’re feeling some kind of emotion, but right now it looks like indigestion. Use the bathroom or express yourself with your whole body.”</p><p>“Your pas de deux together during the second act is about falling in love, but right now it looks like you want to kill your partner. Do you want to kill him, Aquilla?”</p><p>“No,” I sigh.</p><p>Avitas and I are tangled up in a classic Swan Lake pose, my arms crossed delicately over my chest while his wrap around my torso. My back rests against his front and my head leans on his shoulder.</p><p>“Well, your dancing demonstrates a clear lack of affection,” Keris fumes. “Even if you were really in love, I couldn’t tell.”</p><p>I can feel Harper laughing as Keris glides over to fix our pose. </p><p>Rehearsing the Black Swan portion of the ballet means starting the entire learning process from scratch, retraining my body from the delicate balances and soft wing flaps of the White Swan to the harsh jumps and demanding turns of the Black Swan. “Aquilla, it looks like you’re landing planes. You’re meant to be beguiling a prince, not directing traffic. Black Swan is about power and confidence. Try it again, with less flailing.”</p><p>The short sequence I’m working on begins with a series of jumping turns away from Avitas, my eyes catching his each time I make a rotation in the air. Once I’m across the room from him, I wave my arms, summoning him to my side and hopefully not landing any aircraft.</p><p>“Use your shoulders and your head instead of just your arms,” Keris critiques. “It’ll look less like a car dealership inflatable arm-flailing tube that way.”</p><p>Under Keris’s instruction, Avitas and I learn how to dance together—not just as friends or as romantic partners, but as Odette and Siegfried the storybook characters. We take emotions commonly found in our relationship—frustration, love, seduction, anger—and transform them into something elegant and balletic. </p><p> </p><p>In the evenings, Harper and I take turns practicing our emotional dancing, occasionally video recording ourselves for future reference. </p><p>“White Swan will always be difficult for you, won’t it?” Avitas smiles as he watches me correct my position in the mirror. “It’s not quite your style.”</p><p>I contort my face into an approximation of the simpering, scared look that most of the women I’ve seen dancing the role wear. “Oh please, don’t kill me. I’m just a little helpless swan.”</p><p>He laughs, walking over to me. “You need to think of other personality traits for Odette besides scared. I’m sure there’s things about her that you like.”</p><p>I scrunch my brow thoughtfully. “I’ve always admired the way Odette loves. That’s one of the biggest differences between the two characters. Odette loves her sister swans and Siegfried. She loves him enough to forgive him for making a mistake that ultimately costs her life. Odile can’t love at all. There isn’t any real passion between her and Siegfried. Even if her confidence and power are more in line with my style of dancing, perhaps Odette really has got it right.”</p><p>“The ability to love really is a powerful thing.” Avitas smiles, wandering over to the sound system to unhook his phone.</p><p>I heave a sigh, eyes on the view of velvety skies and diamond stars through the window. “Let's go home.”</p><p> </p><p>Even though we generally have a moratorium on ballet at home, Avitas and I watch the old archive VHS tapes of Arius Harper and Keris Veturia incessantly. </p><p>Sometimes we watch for the choreography (“Oh, here is where you push away from my embrace, not there.” “They’re slightly to the right of center stage.”), but many times we watch it for the beauty of the story. </p><p>“I know we were going to watch that episode of Property Brothers that you recorded, but would you mind if we watched Swan Lake again?”</p><p>Avitas laughs. “I can’t believe you’re not sick of it yet. We’ve been in rehearsals for a month, and we watch this all the time.”</p><p>“We don't have to watch it again,” I reply. “I just love the story.”</p><p>He laughs. “I know, love. Come sit with me.” </p><p>We hardly ever have time to ourselves these days. With our Swan Lake debuts fast approaching, our lives are full of rehearsals and fittings and the frenzied pressure of perfection as the deadline closes in. Dancing together while Keris breathes down our necks isn’t the same as curling up on the couch in the sunshine. </p><p>The overture begins, and, even if it is our day off, I have a pile of pointe shoes that need sewing. </p><p>“Is it possible to miss something you never experienced?” I ask, sewing a ribbon to my pointe shoe. “I skipped over the years and years of thankless corps work and went straight to featured and lead roles.” The corps is the background dancers, who dance grueling hours for little recognition. “I feel like I missed a crucial part of the ballet experience. And I’m grateful for all the opportunities, but I still feel like some of it was undeserved.” The last part is whispered, a shameful secret. </p><p>Harper carefully labels my shoes left and right. “You spent ten years at Blackcliff. You spent ten years in a school designed for its students to fail, building yourself from a scared little girl into one of the most formidable ballerinas of the modern day, and you’re only twenty one. What you’ve achieved will always be deserved as long as you continue growing and learning and becoming a better person and dancer. But the fear and the uncertainty are part of the journey too, and will soothe with experience.”</p><p>I curl up into his side, eyes darting between my sewing and the party onscreen. “Thanks,” I whisper quietly.</p><p>“You never need to apologize to me,” Avitas replies, planting a kiss on my hair.</p><p> </p><p>It rarely happens, but every now and then Avitas is rehearsing when I’m not. Even if I should probably be off practicing myself, sitting in the recovery room downstairs, or taking a nap, I sneak in to watch.</p><p>“All right, dancers. Let’s get to work,” the ballet master calls. All the dancers, who have been warming up at the barres installed around the perimeter of the room and chatting in small groups, straighten up and hurry into their starting places for the Act I waltz.</p><p>The pianist begins to play and Dex, as Siegfried's friend, runs to center stage on his cue.</p><p>The first act takes place during the prince’s birthday party, and the choreography is light and free. Avitas’s technique is crisp and clear, but his acting skills and storytelling have garnered high praise as well. </p><p>As the piece unfolds, the dancers’ arrangements become increasingly complicated, from neat square formations to explosions of movement that fling dancers across all corners of the stage. Avitas effortlessly snakes through the melee, easy to pick out but never out of place. Since ballets are silent, every movement establishes his character’s connection with his fellow dancers. He mimes a laugh with one of his friends or tilts his head inquisitively as one of the women takes his arm to lead him further onstage. Each person he passes is quick to join in on the acting: slapping him on the back while he admires the scene, gesturing him over to their group, or cheering him on as he dances. </p><p>He’s always been good at making friends and forming connections. He’s a favorite amongst the ABT community, employees and fans alike. We are all held captive by his unique command of both technique and characterization, as well as his self-discipline and quiet strength that pushes us all to be the best we can be. Every time I watch those green eyes flash with a turn or jump well done, I fall in love a bit more.</p><p>Performing always gives me a rush of adrenaline and reinvigorates my love for dance, and Swan Lake is no exception. Seeing Avitas for the first time onstage in front of an audience, me in the classic white tutu and him with his slightly mussed hair and shining green eyes, I have to stand still and take in the moment. I’ve fought tooth and nail, blood, sweat, and tears, for the past thirteen years to get to this place on this stage, and triumph has never felt so beautiful.</p><p>At the very end comes the curtain call. Women’s corps, men’s corps, featured roles, and then Avitas. He smiles widely as he takes his bow, and then it’s my turn.</p><p>For the first time, I can really stare out at the massive crowd. The entire theatre is on its feet, each audience member clapping for the beauty and emotion that I have inspired in them. I imagine myself fourteen years ago in these very seats, watching the same ballet awe. I wonder if there is another young girl in the audience, watching with rapt attention and feeling a love of ballet bloom inside her. I hope someday she knows what this feels like. </p><p>Our artistic director comes out after the bows, to announce promotions for the next season. Two Masks are moving from the corps to the soloist rank, and I will be a principal, the highest rank in the company. As the director beckons me to the front of the stage, I shoot a concerned look over my shoulder at Avitas. “Stand tall, my love,” he whispers.</p><p> </p><p>I come backstage in a daze, carried by a wave of Masks including Dex and Faris, in various costumes and stage makeup.</p><p>“Make way for the youngest principal ever at ABT!” crows Dex. “Did you see the theatre? On their feet, every single person.”</p><p>I smile. “Thanks Dex. Tonight’s performance was amazing.”</p><p>“Better than amazing!” yells Faris. “It was brilliant! Incredible! Stunning! I’m running out of adjectives.”</p><p>I laugh. “I would love to celebrate with you, but can I take a rain check on the celebration for tomorrow after the evening performance?”</p><p>Dex and Faris reluctantly let me off their shoulders, and I slip into my dressing room with Avitas behind me. </p><p>It’s quiet as we peel off our costumes, rub off our stage makeup, and take turns in the attached shower. Normally I would pull my hair back into a braid, but Avitas runs his hands through it, carefully pulling out tangles and stray pins, and I decide it’ll be fine free. </p><p>Avitas attempts to tidy up, but there is still makeup across the countertop, bath products in the restroom, and costume pieces hanging from all surfaces.</p><p>Most of the company is going out for an opening night celebration, but tomorrow Avitas and I will be performing during the evening show (and some partygoers will be in the matinee and evening), so we beg off in favour of a hot meal and a warm bed.</p><p>“Stars,” I say as we begin our walk home. “I can’t believe any of that just happened.” The block is lit up and filled with people, but we are unrecognizable without our bejeweled costumes and shiny headpieces. </p><p>“Are you happy?” Harper asks.</p><p>I tilt my face up to him, his beautiful face bathed in moonlight. “Yes,” I say, “Because we are here together. Thank you for pulling me out of my head and keeping me going and holding me still.” </p><p>As we walk, we trade stories about what happened today—Dex almost sat on my crown, Faris sprayed hairspray in his eye, someone came in specially to do my makeup—and the world feels like just us two.</p><p>“What do you want for dinner?” Avitas asks as we walk down the impossibly long corridor to our apartment door.</p><p>“I don’t know,” I reply with a tired smile. “Can we just eat noodles and ice cream for once? Something low maintenance at least.”</p><p>“Low maintenance sounds good. I wonder if we have any microwave pizza.”</p><p>We tumble into our dark apartment, the street lights outside casting a warm shadow on our cosy, messy house.</p><p>“Hand me your bag,” I say. “I’ll put the laundry on if you dig out the pizza.”</p><p>He obeys, and I meander away, searching through our bags for dirty clothing.</p><p>“Are we watching Swan Lake again?” I ask, rolling down the waistband of my sweatpants as I return to the living room/kitchen.</p><p>The oven is warming up and the boxed pizza is sitting on the counter, while the television shows the paused first scene of the old Swan Lake footage. Avitas is sat on a barstool, fiddling with a silver ring featuring an unobtrusive diamond in the middle. </p><p>I know what he is going to say the minute my eyes land on him. Not just because of the ring, but because of the crinkle between his eyebrows and his thumb absently rubbing over the band. I’ve spent years memorizing his face, his body, and his little tells. I know him almost better than myself, and I’m sure he would say the same.</p><p>“Will you marry me?” he asks. Clean, simple, to the point. All the other words that normally accompany a proposal (“I’ve loved you since the first time we met fourteen years ago during a performance of Swan Lake. I’ve loved you through years of hearing about your achievements second or even third hand, long hours as we practice until our bones ache, and watching you from the wings as you captivate thousands with your mere presence. Loving you has been one of the greatest gifts life has given me.”) has been said countless times in countless little gestures. </p><p>It’s been said in stolen kisses between rehearsals, waiting late into the evening while the other person finishes a performance, making two cups of tea out of habit, cleaning messes even if you didn’t make them. It’s said in every way we fit together perfectly—in life and in ballet—so the big things don’t feel so out of the blue. </p><p>“Yes,” I say, plucking the ring out of his hand so I can slide it onto my finger. “It would be an honor.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Notes:<br/>Ballet company ranks:<br/>Corps de ballet: “Body of the ballet”. The largest and lowest section of dancers, where most professional dancers start out, although some remain in the corps for their entire career. They perform in group dances, working together as a unit.<br/>Soloist: Dancers who have been singled out for their technical ballet abilities. They often have featured roles in group dances or supporting roles.<br/>Principal: This is the highest rank in the ballet company—for dancers who have incredible technique but also exceptional artistic expression and a strong connection to the audience. They perform lead roles.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>